


Pottering with Potter

by keyflight790



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bad Radio Shows, Bad Slogans, Dirty Talk, Draco thinks Harrys homophobic but he's definitely not, Listening for that Smut, M/M, Mentions of Sex, No apologies are made by the writer for the bad jokes, Some Dad Jokes, TasteofSmut 2020, The boys really need to learn how to talk to each other, Wizard Wireless Network, even worse puns, hearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:01:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25412821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keyflight790/pseuds/keyflight790
Summary: Harry doesn't know why he has a wireless show either, but he's going to make the best of it.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 28
Kudos: 272
Collections: Taste of Smut Fest





	Pottering with Potter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EvAEleanor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvAEleanor/gifts).



> Thank you to my alpha, Thunder of Dragons and my beta, Gallifreyisburning! I appreciate you both so much!
> 
> EvA, I cannot thank you enough for all of the support you've given me this year. I fell in love with your prompt and I'm so glad I got to write it for you!

“And we’re back to _Pottering with Potter_ , the Wireless Network’s Chosen production, and if they don’t make me say that again, I might continue to show up for this gig.” Harry grimaced, reading the notes on his cue card for another promotion. _Witches’ Broomstick Polish,_ for the Witch who cares what she’s riding _._ Merlin, did the writers even pay attention to what they were making him say? 

He tossed the card into the bin, refusing to tell his listeners just _what_ the witches wanted between their legs, and instead switched over to his favourite topic.

“If you caught the match between the Appleby Arrows and the Chudley Cannons, you know we were all gifted with yet another fumble by Arrows seeker, Draco Malfoy! Yes, once again, Malfoy failed to catch the Snitch, even though it was less than a foot from his own face.” 

There were perks to running his own Wireless show, after all. And one of those perks was messing with his old nemesis. 

“Well, what do you know, we have a caller,” Harry grinned, knowing just who was on the other line. “Hello, guest, you’re on with _Pottering with Potter_. Potter here, how are you pottering on today?”

Harry knew the longer he drew out his intro, the angrier his caller would get. 

“Less than a foot?” Malfoy growled out of the phone and directly into the speaker where all of Harry’s listeners could clearly hear him. “More like a yard, and you failed to mention the sheets of rain that kept falling out of the sky.”

“Oh yes, a slight trickle was expected over Devonshire today, perhaps that is what you mean?”

“It was a storm, Potter, and you know it. Could barely see my hands, let alone the Snitch!”

“Yet Cannons seeker and fellow Gryffindor, Oliver Wood, caught it with ease.”

“Longer arms, Potter. You know Wood has those long arms!”

“Your excuses are about as weak as your participation was today, Malfoy.” Harry grinned, leaning back in his chair. “Do ring us again when you’ve decided to get your head out of your arse and into the game, alright?”

“You fu-”

“That’s all the time we have, friends. Join me next week, where we’ll be discussing how Malfoy lost against the Holyhead Harpies. Potter on!”

Harry clicked off his mic and kicked his chair backwards. Rolling his shoulders, he stretched before standing up out of his chair. Sometimes, especially when the Cannons were playing, Harry really loved this excuse of a job.

“I just _Sonorous_ my voice into the mic, and everyone with a Wireless can hear me?” Harry had asked incredulously just three months before. Of course he had a vague idea of how the Wizarding Wireless Network ran, but when Lee had contacted him out of the blue to run his own show, Harry was rightfully confused.

“That’s it!” Lee had responded cheerfully. “The people want to hear from you.”

“And the _people_ don’t care if all I’m talking about is Quidditch, or what I ate for breakfast?”

“I think our audience would listen to you talk about your latest poo, if I’m being honest,” Lee had chuckled. “They haven’t heard from you since the war. Everyone’s curious what you’ve been up to.”

Harry had rubbed the back of his neck subconsciously. “Not much, if I’m being frank.”

“So don’t be Frank. Be Harry. That’s all we want you to be.”

Harry had shrugged noncommittally, but after Hermione had badgered him for another evening about him moping around the house and collecting dust, Harry had agreed. Henceforth, _Pottering with Potter_ aired every Friday for two hours.

Most of that time was utilized to discuss what the goings on were in the garden out behind Grimmauld Place. He, Ron, Hermione, and Neville had all moved in there together after the war. None of them had wanted to be by themselves, and all of them realized the benefit of sharing a whole lot of house at no added expense.. Neville had quickly taken over the garden, and now Harry often enjoyed sipping his English Breakfast and peering out the window at what plant was trying to eat Neville alive.

Then, he usually spent the rest of his air time analyzing the past few Quidditch games, giving props to his favourite players (like Wood and Ginny), and, of course, heckling those who consistently fell behind—in other words, Malfoy.

In fact, teasing Malfoy had become such a tradition on _Pottering with Potter_ that he barely ended a show without it. Now, every Friday, like clockwork, Harry would finish his two-hour block listening to Malfoy whine. It fueled him for the rest of the weekend, and almost made him look forward to heading back into the studio.

It wasn’t that Malfoy was bad; in fact, if Harry was being honest, he was a fantastic seeker. Lithe on a broom, incredibly fast, and laser-focused. Last season, he had crushed the competition, and Harry had been delighted to watch him catch the Snitch week after week. But something seemed to be holding him back lately, and it showed in his matches.

“You fucking arse,” Harry suddenly heard in his ear, and with a grin he realised he hadn’t actually broke the connection between he and Malfoy. That poncy little voice was still whinging away on the phone.

“I just call ‘em like I see ‘em. Which is better than you see the Snitch, I dare say.”

“It was pouring.”

“I seem to remember a match during Third Year where I was in a storm AND faced Dementors.” He cracked his knuckles. “Don’t remember you cutting me any slack.”

“Don’t remember you catching the Snitch that match, either.”

“Well, do tune in next week, where I’m sure we’ll be discussing your magnificent fail against the Harpies.”

“You’d like it if I lost to your girlfriend, wouldn’t you?”

“Not my girlfriend, but yep, sure would. Goodnight, Malfoy.”

“Goodnight, Potter.”

\---

“Welcome back to _Pottering with Potter!_ Today’s sponsor is _Bolstein’s Big Bubbles_ : the drink that tingles as it slides down your throat!” Harry grimaced. He really needed to talk to Lee about these promotions. 

“As we all know by now, Ginevra Weasley absolutely dominated the game against the Arrows yesterday. I spoke to this brilliant seeker just before we came on the air, who had the following to share:” Harry cleared his throat as he picked up the scribbled note Ginny had left on their table that morning. 

“Harry, make sure to tell Draco that winning against him was easier than a slice of tart, and that the Snitch is that little gold ball in the sky, not Coach Krum’s arse.” Harry blinked. He should have probably read the cue card off the air before doing it live. “Well, I’m sure Malfoy knows what a Snitch looks like, Ginny, but thank you for that insight.” He took in a breath, and continued. “But I’m sure we would all agree that Viktor’s arse is also quite a sight and worth more than 150 measly points.”

He winced, not surprised to see that the phone light was already blinking.

“Let’s go to the phones, shall we? You’re on with _Pottering with-_ ”

“I was not staring at Krum’s arse!”

“I think Ginny was just-”

“Well it wasn’t funny! To say that I was...and he...and I’m not…”

“That’s all our time today!” Harry quickly interjected. “Thank you for listening, and until next week, Potter on!”

As soon as Harry clicked off the show, Malfoy shouted in his ear.

“What the fuck was that, Potter? Implying that I’m gay? That I’m throwing the match to stare at some coach’s arse?”

“I didn’t-”

“As if I wasn’t already under enough scrutiny, you had to go and accuse me of not knowing the difference between a Snitch and a-”

“It wasn’t-”

“And even if I was staring at Krum’s arse, that doesn’t mean anything. You and your homophobia-”

“Excuse me?”

“I said you’re homophobic, Potter. Going around and calling out others based on their sexual preference, on public Wireless no less.”

“I’m sorry.”

“And now I have to go and explain my...excuse me? You’re sorry?”

“Yes.”

“For what?”

Harry winced. “For reading the note Ginny left on the table this morning.”

“This morning? See, I knew she was your girlfriend.”

“She’s not.” Harry said, taking in a deep breath. “She’s Neville’s actually.”

“Neville’s what?”

“Neville’s girlfriend. Neville lives with me.”

“You and your lion pack,” Draco sighed from the other end of the line. “Never could leave each other alone.”

“And I suppose you like being alone?”

“Who says I’m alone, Potter?”

“Are you alone, Malfoy?” Harry asked, suddenly finding himself curious who Malfoy might be spending his nights with.

“No. Well, technically right now I am, but I haven’t been alone for long.” Draco paused. “And before you ask, yes, my previous partner happened to be a man. But I didn’t want myself outed on that pathetic thing you call a radio show.”

“I understand,” Harry gulped.

“Doubtful,” Malfoy scoffed. “You have no idea what it’s like to live in the closet, Potter.”

“That, Draco, is something I’m all too familiar with.”

“Whatever, Potter. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Malfoy.”

\------

“Ginny!” Harry cried out the second his foot was over the threshold. 

“What do you want?” she yelled from the kitchen. Harry stomped through their living room and found himself suddenly surrounded by a horrid smell. 

“Oh gods, what is that?” he asked, pinching his nose.

“It was supposed to be curry,” Ginny said, holding up a burnt pan. “An apology dinner.”

Harry chuckled. “I’ll consider your apology accepted if you don’t make me eat that.”

Ginny nodded. “I realize now I shouldn’t have outed Malfoy like that.”

“It wasn’t great,” Harry shrugged. “As awful as he was to us in school, he doesn’t deserve to be yanked out of the closet.” 

“I know.” She pointed to a letter on the table. “I’m sending him an apology owl, too.”

“Good. Luckily, I don’t think anyone really noticed.” Harry paused. “At least I found out he’s currently single.”

“Oh, did you?” Ginny gave him a grin. “And what are you going to do with this information?”

“Not sure yet. Stay tuned to _Pottering with Potter_ and find out.”

\---

“Well, who knew I could spend 40 minutes talking about Neville and his Venomous Tentacula—which is quite large I might add—so now a quick word from our sponsors. _Sinestra’s Sandwiches,_ six inches of meat have never been so satisfying.” Harry closed his eyes and concentrated on not laughing. Damnit, Lee; he had to be doing this to him on purpose. 

“Okay, moving on.” Harry shifted in his chair, getting closer to the mic. “This is normally when I mess with Malfoy, I know, but I think we can all agree that he played a fantastic match against the Falmouth Falcons.” Harry had enjoyed listening to the game earlier in the week, trying to ignore how his pulse quickened when Malfoy’s name was mentioned. “That last dive was outright daring, and had the wind been in his favour, he surely would have caught the Snitch.”

Harry looked at the phones, delight running across his skin as he saw the little light signalling a waiting call. “It looks like we might have some Malfoy fans calling in, so let’s go to the phones!” He pressed the little button, opening the connection. “You’re on with Potter, how are you Pottering on today?”

“What the fuck, Potter?” Malfoy’s swotty voice filled the line. 

“Language, Malfoy!” Potter exclaimed.

“How dare you criticise that dive! You’d never have the balls to do it!”

“Criticise? I was complimenting you!”

“Sure you were, you little shit!” 

“This is a family show!”

“Precious Potter and his precious show, I don’t give a fuck. You come on week after week and -”

“And that’s all the time we have today thanks for joining tune in next time, bye!” Harry rushed his exit before hissing into the mic. “What the fuck is wrong with you? I was being nice!”

“Think you can redeem yourself for your slip-up last week by pretending to be kind, do you?” Malfoy continued, barely pausing. “I played a shite game and everyone knows it! Coach benched me for the next two weeks, and I don’t need you fucking with my head in the meantime!”

“He benched you?” Harry shook his head. “But you came so close to catching the Snitch!” 

“Close is not caught, Potter.” Malfoy sounded defeated. “Poor performance is the official marking.”

“You play beautifully,” Harry said, wincing as he heard the words leave his mouth. “I mean, you’re way better than you were in school.”

“Well, thank you, I guess,” Malfoy paused. “I was better last season.”

“Yeah,” Harry couldn’t help but agree. “Why do you think that is?”

“You’ve said it yourself on your little wireless show,” Malfoy spat through the phone. “I’ve been distracted.”

“Krum wasn’t at your match.”

“Not Krum, you daft prick.” Malfoy sighed, and Harry could practically feel the pain through the phone. “You don’t give a shite; why am I even talking to you about this?”

Harry shrugged, even though Malfoy couldn’t see him. “I think I’m a good listener.”

“You don’t want to hear about my gay panic.”

“Maybe I do,” Harry said. Maybe he just wanted Malfoy to keep talking.

“Trust me, you don’t.” Malfoy paused, and Harry was hopeful for a minute that he’d continue. Instead, he just said, “Goodnight, Potter.”

“Goodnight, Malfoy.”

\---

“And then he just hung up,” Harry said, telling Ron about his most recent show over a plate of biryani. Harry had cooked it, which made it rather more edible than Ginny’s curry.

“Well, you know what happened, don’t you?” Ron asked, his mouth full of rice.

“No.” Harry paused, putting down his fork. 

“Oh, man,” Ron continued in between mouthfuls. “His captain, Alders, apparently hooked up with Malfoy over summer hols.” Ron paused, blessedly chewing and swallowing, before speaking again. “Guess it didn’t work out, and the prick told the whole team what Malfoy’s like in bed.”

“He outed Malfoy to the entire team?” Harry couldn’t believe it. “Why would he do that?”

“Revenge, I guess?” Ron shoved a full fork into his mouth. “Apparently, Malfoy’s into some pretty kinky stuff.”

“Ron!” Harry shouted. 

“What?” Ron said, swallowing hard. “Aren’t you into some weird stuff too?”

Harry pulled the platter close to himself, out of Ron’s reach. “No food for arseholes who kinkshame.”

“No shame,” Ron grinned in response. “Just thought you’d like to know how much you have in common.”

Harry rolled his eyes before Vanishing the platter straight to the fridge. “I’d rather he tell me himself.”

“I bet you would,” Ron chuckled. “The heat between you two could burn the whole Network down; I’m surprised you haven’t fucked through the phone yet.”

“We fight non-stop on air.”

“Which is basically foreplay for you two,” Ron said with a sly grin. “The least you can do is ask him for a drink, or a cigarette after.”

Harry bit his lip. He was kind of thirsty, after talking on the show all day. A drink wouldn’t kill him.

\---

“What do you want,” Malfoy asked as he approached Harry at the bar of the Leaky.

“A drink?” Harry said. “Was my owl not clear?”

“Your owl was clear, your intentions are not.” Malfoy said with a sneer, before turning to order a drink from the bartender.

Harry took the opportunity to survey the man in front of him. He hadn’t actually _seen_ Malfoy in months, apart from catching the occasional match in person. Same blond hair, same fierce grey eyes. He looked shorter though. Hunched. As if he was trying to hide in the background, merge into the blur of the crowd. 

A bit of Harry had always been envious about how Malfoy thrived in the limelight. It was always a space Harry was thrust into, not out of want, but out of necessity. Malfoy usually commanded it, brightening under its power. The Malfoy in front of him now, however, was more like a wallflower than a sunbeam. 

“I wanted to buy you a drink,” Harry said, trying to sound nonchalant, as if his heart wasn’t racing at the sight of his old nemesis. 

“Why?” Malfoy asked dryly. “Sympathy, now that you’ve gotten me benched?”

“Hey, now, I didn’t bench you! If anything, Alders did!”

Malfoy’s face paled. “So you’ve heard,” he snarled. “Want to poke more fun at my sex life, do you?”

“No!” Harry yelped. “I didn’t mean...I just meant that he’s a dick is all.”

“Couldn’t agree more,” Draco said, throwing back the rest of his drink. “Well, now that precious Potter knows what I like in bed, I’m sure everyone will hear it on your next segment.”

“I would never!”

“Thanks for the drink,” Malfoy said, slamming his glass on the counter. “Now, do kindly fuck off.”

“Wait!” Harry reached out and grabbed Malfoy’s wrist, but he just glared at him before tugging himself out of Harry’s grasp. “I- I don’t know what you like in bed!” Harry yelled in a pathetic last attempt.

“Merlin, yell it louder, I don’t think they heard you in Hogsmeade,” Malfoy snarled, but his feet stilled. He paused, before cocking his head to the right. “You know about Alders, though.”

“Only that he’s a prick.” Harry scrunched up his nose. “And that he’s been torturing you all season. Is that why you haven’t been playing well?”

“Practice has been a little...tense.” Draco swallowed, and his stare drifted to the ground. “He barely lets me practice, and the others on my team think...well, I can’t imagine what they think. Most won’t even look me in the eye.”

“You should go to the board.”

“And what? Lose my spot completely? I’m lucky a team picked up an ex-Death Eater at all.”

Harry closed his eyes, trying to fight the sudden wave of anger that was brewing in his belly. “What if we practiced?” he suggested. “I’ve got this big garden, and the only one who uses it is Neville, and it’s not like I do anything outside of the show except focus on Quidditch and the dust gathering on my windowsill.”

“You’d...you want to play Quidditch with me?”

“If it’ll help?” 

Malfoy paused, before giving him a quick nod. “Suppose it wouldn’t hurt. My next match is Thursday, so...Tuesday night? Would that work?”

“Sounds great.”

It was barely noticeable, but Harry was sure he saw a smile before Malfoy said, “Goodnight Potter.”

“Goodnight Malfoy.”

\---

A few weeks later, Harry sat in the studio, mic at the ready.

“It’s Friday, and you know what that means!” Harry said, unable to control his joy. “That’s right, witches, wizards, and wixen all around, it’s time for _Pottering with Potter!_ ”

Harry practically spun in his chair before pulling out the card Lee had handed him before the show. “Ah, and I see this week’s sponsor is _Concordia and Plunkett Musical Instruments_ : the sounds you can make when you finger all of the holes!” 

He didn’t even try to hide back his laughter. “Glad I never took up the saxophone, eh?” Harry continued. “We have a special guest in studio with us today! Everyone give it up for this week’s star Quidditch seeker, Draco Malfoy, who not only absolutely eviscerated the Kenmare Kestrels, but also broke a decade-long record by catching the Snitch in only five minutes!”

“It was four and a half, Potter,” Malfoy added with a wink.

“And what an impressive four minutes it was,” Harry grinned in response. “Do tell us, how did you break this record?”

“Well,” Malfoy started, “a lot of practice with a very accomplished Quidditch player, and quite a bit of cardio workouts.”

“Is that what you’re calling it?” Harry smiled mischievously.

“Heart rates up, quite a bit of sweating; what would you call that, Potter?”

“A good time.”

“A very good time,” Malfoy smirked.

“Well, on that note, let’s hear a bit of music! Here’s _Spellbound,_ and their latest hit, _Witch Way!_ ” Harry pressed a few buttons, and thought he heard the sounds of guitars strumming the intro to the popular rock song. He turned his chair and pulled Malfoy into his lap.

“So I know what you can do in four minutes, but what about three?” Harry said, wrapping his arms around Malfoy’s waist. 

Malfoy shifted so his thighs were on either side of Harry’s own before settling in Harry’s lap. “I can do a lot of things very, very fast,” he said with a smirk, before leaning close to Harry’s ear, “or I can do one thing very, _very_ slowly.”

“And what would that be?” Harry said, waggling his eyebrows.

“I’d get down on my knees, and curl myself under your atrocious excuse of a desk.”

“And then what?” Harry could feel his cock fattening as Malfoy squirmed in his lap.

“Pull your cock out,” Malfoy groaned into his ear before sticking his tongue out to barely graze the lobe. “Suck on it until you got hard.”

“What if I’m already hard?” Harry shifted in his seat, pressing his hips up so that Malfoy could feel just what his words were doing to him.

“I’d lick every inch of you while you continued your little show, until you were panting and practically crying out my name.”

“And trying to talk about Shrivelfigs.”

Malfoy nodded. “Talking about plants while I’ve got you in my mouth, down my throat, my tongue-”

The door burst open and Lee walked in, shielding his eyes.

“You’re still on air, Potter!”

“Fuck!”

“Language!”

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> 💋 This work is part of the Taste of Smut Fest, a Harry Potter-centered fest dedicated to the five senses: taste, touch, smell, hearing, and sight. 
> 
> If you’ve enjoyed this work, please do shower our content creators with kudos and comments! 💌
> 
> [Please check out the fest's tumblr for more posts and updates](https://tasteofsmut.tumblr.com/)


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